


Under the Table

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A table at the Motel is hiding more secrets than the Winchesters realize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Castiel

**Under the Table**

  
    Dean tucked his crisp white shirt in and adjusted his tie, winking at himself in the mirror. Yep, he loved this new suit, he decided as he slipped into the dark blue jacket next. He might even try it out at a bar later to see if it was as lucky as his last one. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he knew how to work a suit.  
    With one last check to make sure he hadn’t left any tags or had any tears, he jerked the bathroom door open and lifted his arms.  
     “What do you think?” he asked the minute he saw Castiel.  
    Sitting at the dining room table, Castiel jerked in his chair and slammed his hands on the table as he stared at Dean wide-eyed. His eyes were so dilated that Dean could have sworn they were black.  
    Dean stared back. The angel hadn’t moved since Dean had gone in to shower and change and he was surprised to see him still there instead perched in front of the TV as usual. Castiel did another small jerk and his eyes closed a little as he stared at Dean hard.  
     “Well, I’m glad you approve, Cas. You look like you actually thought I was a cop, or like you want to jump my bones… or somethin’.” Castiel licked his lips nervously and Dean blinked in confusion at the discomfort he saw there. “Really. Thanks.”  
    “You look very much like a federal agent. And it looks very nice on you.” Castiel started fidgeting in his chair, rocking a little, and his eyes dropped from Dean’s to dart around the room. Dean frowned as he watched Castiel’s hands tighten in the long table cloth that draped over the table from side to side.  
     “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked over to the bedside table. Castiel jumped again in his chair but didn’t turn to watch him. He just stared at the opposing wall and shook his head.  
     “I’m very well, thank you. Just… trying to determine my course of action in this.” Castiel dropped his one hand from the table to his lap when Dean wasn’t looking.  
    Coming back around to the small kitchenette, Dean tucked his false ID into his jacket pocket and patted the gun in its shoulder holster. “Same as always. Wait for us. Sam was interviewing a few suspects and I’m going to meet the sheriff. If we run into trouble, I’ll call you.”  
    He expected the angel to protest like he usually did about being left behind, but Castiel nodded as he finally looked at Dean’s from across the table. “Yes, of course. That is an excellent idea.”  
    There was a bead of sweat trickling down Castiel’s forehead and Dean turned around to grab a bottle of water for him, thinking that maybe the Texas heat was bothering him.  
    He missed Castiel’s expression changing into one of pure agony as he slapped his hand on the table and raked his blunt nails down the yellow checkered cloth, bunching it between his fingers. His eyelids fluttered a little while his eyes nearly crossed and his jaw opened and closed repeatedly in a desperate effort to keep quiet. Even his breathing changed, going soft but fast. He managed not to make a sound but just barely. His mouth went dry and in that moment he wanted so badly to tear the table apart.  
 _Oh Heaven…_  
    Around the blurring starting to happen in his vision, he saw Dean turning back around and immediately he straightened up in his seat. He was barely able to recover before Dean noticed anything wrong, with his overcoat draped nicely around his lean body and his posture casual.  
    If anything, it made Dean look more worried as he set the water on the table.  
    “You sure you’re okay?” he asked and Castiel let all expression fall from his face. The blank look made Dean roll his eyes. “Course you are. What kind of trouble is an angel going to get up to in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, right?”  
    “I’ll see what I can find in the texts about this type of spell. If it can affect only certain blood types, then it is a very precise witch,” Castiel said quickly and though he was still worried Dean nodded, grabbing his car keys and heading to the door. He gave him another confused look as he went.  
    “Sounds like a plan. See you in a few.”  
    “Of course. Be careful,” Castiel said.  
    If Dean found it strange that the angel hadn’t moved from the table, he didn’t say. He just waved and shut the door behind himself, shaking his head in sympathy. Castiel was bound to still have his moments of oddness, he figured. Maybe he should try to get him laid again; sex would probably loosen him up.  
    The moment the door was locked behind Dean, Castiel slid down further in his chair until his spine curved into it uncomfortably. His head tilted back as he shut his eyes and he finally moaned long and low. One hand still clutched the table edge so hard that his knuckles were white while the other was clenched on his thigh. His back arched as he swallowed loudly and then moaned again, unable to keep the tortured sounds in anymore.  
    Eventually, his hand drifted beneath the table cloth and grasped a handful of dark silky hair to hold on to something more lifelike.  
    There was mischievous chuckle, one that vibrated around his cock, and the sound almost overwhelmed the whimper he gave when it sent fresh jolts of pleasure into him. He jerked his hips to follow the sound and go deeper within the luscious heat that had been the center of his focus for the entire time that Dean had been talking to him. The lips stroking up and down hummed and moaned around him, sending firecrackers up his spine as all the blood remaining in his head rushed downwards. Groaning, he tightened his hand in the dark hair and his hips arched as he exploded. The agony of that bone-jarring pleasure had built to unbelievable pressure, and he cried out as the release finally came.  
    He wasn’t sure if was considered blasphemy when he cried out the name of his Father and his tormentor in the same breath.  
    Then, as quickly as the pleasure had come, it was gone and he almost mourned its loss.  
    Slumping in his chair and feeling like a boneless heap of flesh with endorphins flooding his over-aware body, Castiel stared at the ceiling.  
    That mischievous chuckle came again and he felt lips press against his stomach, drifting over the bared skin before travelling up his chest. He could feel the warmth of those lips even through his dress shirt, stinging kisses that burned with each touch and he arched a little into the sensation of it. When he felt a press of hips into his, Castiel opened his eyes to see Meg leaning into him. Her arms draped over his shoulders and she tilted her head at him as she settled on his lap. Her tongue slid out to lick her lower lip and the look she gave him was almost feline in its satisfaction.  
    “I think you enjoyed that, feathers.”  
    “You were nearly caught,” he managed to gasp out and Meg laughed again, lowering her head so their mouths were a breath apart. Finally able to lift his head, he kissed those mocking lips and tasted a mixture of himself and her. When they broke apart, her dark eyes were still as seductive as they had been ten minutes ago when she’d told him to keep quiet and let her play.  
    “That was fun. We should do it again sometime,” she suggested and he moaned again. He wasn’t sure he could handle doing that again without giving it all away.


	2. Meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg tries to keep quiet

**Part Two: Sam tries to Interrogate Meg at the Table**  
  
    “Look, I asked a simple question,” Sam snapped at the petite demon sitting at the kitchenette’s table. He’d come back to the room expecting Castiel and Dean, not her, and the fact that neither were in sight had made him edgy. His calls to both Dean and Castiel went unanswered, and Meg still sat there like some innocent girl. All his threats and demands barely made a dent in her oddly amused expression.  
    Her dark eyebrows raised a little.  
    “Well, well. Simple questions from simple minds. I already told you that I don’t know where Castiel is. Maybe he’s blowing your brother in the back alley.”  
    Sam rolled his eyes and didn’t hear the quick hiss of breath the demon gave. Her jaw tightened and she flexed her hand into a fist suddenly. Her eyes shut a little for a moment before she finally relaxed and grinned at the hunter.  
     “Look. Cas obviously thought you were going to help out with this case, otherwise he wouldn’t have brought you here,” Sam pointed out as he put his hands on the table and leaned across. “But he knew that the rule was that he was to keep an eye on you.”  
      “Who says he’s not?” Meg asked and Sam frowned when he saw the corner of her eye twitch a little, her lower body shifting uncomfortably. She managed to brush the twitch to the side with a roll of her eyes. “Please, he’s Mister Omnipotent when it comes to me.”  
     “Fair enough. He does know where you are a disturbing amount of the time.”  
     “What can I say? Girl like me draws attention.” She gestured to her new black leather coat. “I even dressed up for the occasion.”  
     “Look, he wasn’t with Dean.”  
     “You think I keep him on a leash?” Meg leaned forward towards him. “News flash, Bullwinkle. The angel loves to leave you guys alone so you can think for yourselves for once.”  
    Sam scoffed and turned away to grab his coat. Meg kept her eyes on him, her expression never changing, but her one hand went under the table.  
    “I swear to God, Meg, if you are trying to manipulate Cas, you’ll regret it.”  
    “Why would I? He’d smite my ass in a heartbeat and I like this meatsuit too much to leave it now. The little girl is long gone now and who would take care of it without me?” she ground out between sparkling white teeth as she watched him. “All this distrust, Sammy boy. You’ll hurt my feelings, really.”  
    “You…”  
    “Are done with this conversation. You should go find your big brother before you need to be changed,” she drawled, her eyes dark and warning. Sam squinted at her. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn her voice was hitching unsteadily. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here when you get back so you can ask me all those questions you are dying to ask.”  
    Muttering to himself about how fucking annoying female demons were, Sam jerked his coat on as he walked to the door.  
    “Toodles, precious,” Meg said, wiggling her fingers at him. Sam glared at her one last time and slammed the door behind him, locking it to keep her in. Knowing the hunter, he was putting salt lines out too.  
    Not that she cared.  
    The hand she had under the table tightened around the short dark hair she’d been holding onto, her nails raking against skin, and she heard a soft moan of pleasure that echoed under the table. It made her jerk her hips up in the chair to try to get closer to the vibration of the sound. Awkwardly, she spread her legs as far as they could go under the table, propping her bare feet up on the other chairs. She shoved the overly long table cloth back so she could watch and realized just how exposed she actually was. It was lucky that Sam hadn’t noticed she was missing her jeans and that her jacket covered her tiny frame just enough to keep it from being obvious.  
    Though she didn’t mind if they were caught, Castiel might.  
    His mouth was pressed at just the perfect spot, though it could go a little higher she decoded. The devious angel suddenly did exactly that, his tongue moving higher and licking slower. Her hips bucked up at his mouth and she figured he was doing his mind-reading trick again when he flicked his tongue against her clit. He could barely fit under the table and she would have laughed each time he banged his head as he adjusted his position but damn if he wasn’t keeping her from being able to do more than think about his mouth.  
    Fingers curled inside of her, forward and then back, and she nearly cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure when his teeth nipped her sensitive flesh. Her lower lip split open as she sank her teeth in and tried to hold off.  
    “You are so lucky you didn’t do that before,” she moaned, staring down at him. “Otherwise Sam would know you were there.”  
    Blue eyes flicked up at her from within the shadows of the table and she wriggled her hips impatiently.  
    “Much as a threesome might be fun… .” She cried out a curse as he punished her for that suggestion with a brutal twist of his fingers and a hard lick. Meg moaned and grasped his hair tightly. “I think I like having you to myself still. I’m…fuck… possessive like that. Glad you are too.”  
    He moaned back against her and the vibrating growl of his voice sent her over the edge. She clenched her thighs around his head and leaned back as far as she could in the chair, feeling him pull her hips over the edge of the chair and  closer as he lapped and sucked at her.  
    Oh, Hell…. He was good at this game because he liked it so much. No…not just liked. He loved this game; he’d told her that getting her to lose her oh-so precious control let him see how much of a hold he had on her.  
    Damn if it didn’t feel wonderful when he decided to put his theory into practise.  
    Her body shuddered, muscles tightening and then releasing through her orgasm, and the entire time his mouth never lifted from her. Meg held on tight to his hair and cried out again, using his name this time. He seemed to love whenever she did that because he would lick and suck harder to draw it out until her cry was long and low, desperate and nearly begging. This time she felt him actually draw a ‘C’ with his tongue as if to mark her. Meg groaned and shuddered, her muscles so relaxed that she couldn’t stop him if she wanted to. He continued to draw his name in English, and then in the jagged patterns of angelic scribe, until she was so worn out that the only thing she could do was moan and mewl for more.  
    She thought she felt him smile as she finally found the strength to pull him up, using his hair as a lead.  
    He pushed her chair back and stood over her. Meg tilted her head back, panting for breath she had forgotten she needed, and she crooked her finger at him. Castiel smirked, the sort of impatient I-made-you-scream smirk he’d learned from her, before bending at the waist so he could kiss her. Meg licked at his shiny wet lips hungrily and he groaned, pressing into her. She broke the kiss long enough to look into his darkening eyes and she felt his hands curve around her thighs.  
    “You’re… definitely nearly pro-star level at that, tree-topper.”  
    Castiel rolled his eyes and before she realized what he was doing he had her flat on her back on the table. Wriggling eagerly, she kept her legs splayed apart as she watched him struggle with his belt.  
    “He might come back,” she warned and the laugh he gave was eerily similar to the one she had given him a few hours earlier. She choked on her words when he grabbed her by the thighs and yanked her across the table and against him so he could thrust into her. Squirming and eyes shutting as she gave a happy smirk, she tried to rock her hips up at his cock and failed when he held her still. Castiel dropped himself so he was resting on top of her, trusting the table to hold his weight.  
    His mouth brushed her ear in a warm, seductive caress.  
    “Let him.”


End file.
